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"Kitch! You promised me.” Ray points at the ice cream stand beside the pet shop. The lady behind the stand suddenly looks over us and then goes back to reading the newspaper.
He always asks for their ice cream even before Mom worked here. After school, he would ask me to buy him one even if it’s the cheapest that they sell there as long as it is from there.
“I didn’t agree, okay?” I rummage through the back pocket of my jeans and find not a single coin. “Besides, I’m broke.”
He glumly looks at me. “But you promised.” He points again at the ice cream stand, his lips cutely pouting. The lady looks at him, then at me, then at the newspaper again. I don’t recognize her so she must be a new employee.
I rummage, forcing my hand in the front pockets of my jeans, and I feel this crumpled paper and take it out. Luckily, I still have a dollar. “It must be your lucky day coz I found a dollar.”
“Yay! Ice cream!” I hand him the dollar and I watch him as he giddily asks for an ice cream. The lady looks a bit old to be working here. It must suck to always spend your time sitting outside, waiting for a hungry customer longing for a sweet treat.
“Thank you!” Ray exclaims. The lady simply nods and smiles as a response before reading the newspaper again.
“What about me? No thank you?”
He licks his ice cream. “You know I already am.”
I roll my eyes and head towards the shop. “Next time, you’re treating me. This crazy obsession of yours is costing most of my allowance.”
“Whatevs, sis. You know I’m still too young for allowances. All I can give you is a peanut butter sandwich and free entertainment.”
“You’re killing me.”
I open the door and a bell tings. The smell of dogs combined with the stinking smell of fishes and cow poop greet me. “Erk. It’s nasty in here.” I say with a grimace.
“It’s not nasty—Erk! It is nasty!” Ray falls beside me and covers his nose with his fingers. “What happened in here?! It’s not supposed to smell this bad.”
A smile creeps on my lips but I resist and frown because of this freaking smell. “Let’s go look for Mom.”
We walk in between the aisles and reach the end, where the cashier is located. “Mom? Where are you?” I call out.
I hear rummaging and faint thuds under the counter. I lean forward to look under it when suddenly Mom’s head comes popping out of who-knows-what’s-under-there that my head collides with hers, making a loud thud sound.
“Ow!” I lean back from the counter, wincing from the pain. I cup my head in my hands, composing myself.
“What the—” I put my hands down and try to look at Mom who has a grimace on her face. I give an apologetic, sorry-for-that smile.